My Sweet Opaline
by Yours Truely-MDK
Summary: With my own two hands, I took someone's life. 5 minutes, and he hung limp from a chain. It was all my doing, and I can't deny it. But I can hide from it. My one and only piece of heaven. My one and only love. My addiction. Absinthe. Then he came along.
1. Rust

**Disclaimer:** God, I hate these things. But no, I do not own any of the Final Fantasy characters, though I often dream that I do, in fact, own them in my own little fangirlish world. However, Mari Denali Kael and Nazifa Penelope Colfax are indeed mine. Love them, hate them, whatever you like, but please don't steal them.

**Note:** Mari refers to her sister as 'Nazi.' Its pronounced 'Nah-zee.' She is not, in fact, a Nazi, its just a shorter form of 'Nazifa'. Also, Mari is pronounced 'Mar-ee', not 'Marie'.

The song was barely audible, broken up and shroudded in white noise. Somewhere behind the static, the DJ's voice filtered through as the song faded out. 'And that was My Humps by Black Eyed Peas, requested from Lulu...and now its time for the weekends top 10, when we return from the break. Keep on rockin' in Midg--' The rumble of the engine cut out, as well as the radio.

Heaving a sigh, Mari slowly hoisted herself out of the ancient vehicle, coughing at the swell of smog from the tailpipe.

"Are you working tonight? Or did Cid let you off?" Mari asked Nazifa with a hint of hope that she did indeed have a free night as she gathered up her thick raven tendrils and captured them in a tight bun at the base of her neck. Knowing her older sister was near made the dreary nights of cleaning the Honeybee Inn just a bit more bearable.

"We finished fixing the Highwind, so he's given me a few day's leave," she murmured, fingers nimbly tugging the fabric of Mari's apron into a tight bow. Gravel crunching underfoot was the only sound for the proceeding minutes as the sisters carefully made their way through an alley that lead to the back of the Inn. Beneath the few flickering streetlights, Mari studied the dark circles that began to form under the other female's hazel eyes.The younger female's teeth gently pressed into her plush bottom lip, eyebrows knitting and lines of worry creasing her forehead. Though she smiled still, her laugh was hollow, eyes almost lifeless. Mari sighed again, rummaging through her pockets for her ring of keys. She'd have to ponder her sister's plight at a later date.

For quite some time now, she'd wondered how the combined wages of a housekeeper for the Honeybee Inn and a part-time mechanic managed to support three people, one of which was bed-ridden.

The product of needles and the intoxicating glow of neon lights. They never knew their fathers, and they doubted their mother did, either. The three of them had always been on their own, slowly consumed by the sinful allure of the underworld. Each day, Mari slipped further and further into the comforting grasp of the heavy perfume and cigarette smoke that filled every pore of her being. All for her. For the one that brought her into this world. All she could give was her meager minimum wage check, but if it kept her alive and made the pain go away...

Her morbid train of thought fell away as a very flustered, half-dressed woman skittered in her direction. Before she could so much as utter a hello, the woman had an iron grip on her shoulders and shook her violently as her words flowed a mile a minute.

"Mari, have you seen my garter belt anywhere?! I think one of the girls ran off with it...you know the one! Black lace...ooooh, I've GOT to find it!" For a brief moment, the frantic woman calmed, a devious little grin curling on her lips. "Reno's here..." she purred, a certain twinkle to her eye.

"You know, for as long as I've worked here, I've never so much as caught a _glimpse_ of this Reno guy...what's so..." Mari pursed her lips, arms crossing under her chest as the petite female flittered away before she could even finish her sentence. Nazifa said nothing as she stooped to pick up the supposedly missing garter belt and tucked it safely into one of Mari's pockets; in her fit of panic, she'd dropped it right in front of her.

A deafening silence ensued. Mari's olive green orbs watched the statue of a sister from the corner of her eye. Eventually, Nazifa's own hazel hues flitted in her direction.

"Nazi, I was won--" Again, Mari was interrupted, but this time, by the ring of a cell phone. Her sister held up a finger as she said her greetings to whomever was on the other line. Patiently, she waited, recomposing her words while watching the other caramel-skinned female's face undergo an amazing range of emotions. Eventually, her features settled into an expression of intense worry. Or was that fear she detected in her eyes? It seemed yet again her thoughts would have to wait until a later time.

"I have to go meet up with a friend of mine. Wait here for me after work, alright?"

"But, Nazi..." She'd already turned away, heading off in the other direction hastily. Mari gaped after her bushy mane as it rounded the corner. Without another word, Mari drifted to the storage room, preparing her work material on her cart, and sauntered off in the same direction that her sister went with only the noisy squeak of the cart to keep her company.

It was dismal work, wondering from room to room changing sheets and replacing towels. Her thoughts kept her occupied as she carried out these now automatic actions. As her shift came to a close, she rummaged for her keys, and her hand clasped around the lost garter belt from earlier. With half an hour to kill, Mari wandered slowly towards the dressing rooms with the intent of returning the item and hopefully catching a glimpse of the infamous Reno. She knew next to nothing about this man and was rather curious to encounter him for herself. Who wouldn't be after hearing the many whispered stories about the mistress of the Inn's tirades with the promiscuous Turk? Turk. To her, it was just a meaningless word. With any luck, maybe the Turk himself could flesh out the empty word.

The halls were empty, the squeak of the wheels resonating through the dank hollowness. Not even the overbearing scent of powder and alcohol could permeate the eerie stillness. The blood-curdling scream that followed hadn't even reached her ears when her body lurched forward. Driven by pure instinct, the door to the opulent strip club flung open and hadn't even closed by the time she'd flown across the stage. A light pink glow, flash of red hair, and a few shrieks of surprise were all her senses could take in before a blur of the mundane colors of the halls filled her vision. Desperately, she threw one leg in front of the other and smashed open the door from whence the scream came with a thunderous crash.

Time froze. Torn clothes were strewn about. A rather large sum of money was scattered about, a few flecks of crimson brilliant against the gray of the concrete floor. A man she did not recognize was stooped over a quivering mass of bruised and bloody flesh...her sister.

The man was seething, his very breath full of an uncontrollable rage as he turned his gaze to Mari. His eyes were clouded over with a murderous intent, violently tearing through her very core. She stared straight back into those murky depths, daring him to lay another finger on her sister.

The battle of looks was broken by an incoherent groan. Nazifa sobbed, and began to plead. She pleaded not for her life, but for Mari's.

"Please, Deraj...don't hurt her..." was all she could croak before the man stood up suddenly and gave a sharp kick to her ribcage.

"Shut up you thieving whore!" He abandoned her, gasping for breath and coughing up a mouthful of blood. The monster of a man descended upon Mari like a shark that had caught the scent of blood. Slowly, she stumbled backwards, eyes darting around frantically for something, anything to help her. It wasn't until her back pressed against the cold wall that fear finally caught up with her.

"No..." Nazifa whimpered, tears streaming down her cheeks as she helplessly reached for her sister. Mari could almost feel the Deraj's ragged breath on her face. Was she destined to die in the storage room of a whore's hotel?

Not if the rather hefty chain on his wallet had anything to say about it. Fueled by a powerful surge of adrenaline, Mari let out a wild cry of anger. The change from trembling prey to terrifying predator startled their attacker. He thrashed about, knife slashing at whatever it could sever. And then the weapon fell with a clatter to the ground, a nearly inaudible sound over his red-faced spluttering. He clawed at the chain that wound tightly around his neck, gasping for fleeting breath. Mari couldn't feel the knife wounds he'd inflicted upon her, heart pounding in her ears.

A final, shuddering breath fell from blue lips. For a time, Mari still kept the metal twisted around his neck. This didn't satisfy her. He deserved more than this simple death. However, all the heinous acts she'd conjured up disappeared the moment Nazifa whispered her name. She all but threw the limp body as she scrambled over to her sister.

"I...I'm sorry...I should've..." Nazifa winced as her younger sibling dabbed at the cut along her cheek with the edge of her apron.

"Don't talk." Mari was trembling now, voice weak and shaking, the rush of chemicals finally surrendering her body to her control once more. "I'm going to get help...everything is going to be okay..." She muttered this more to herself than Nazifa to keep herself calm. The man that lay feet away from her...she'd taken his life with her own two hands. For a brief second, she stared at the small flecks of rust that powdered her hands. Swiftly, she began to stumble off in the direction of the nearest people. It was then that Mari became aware of the warm scarlet liquid that poured from a gash along the side of her stomach.

"I'm...bleeding..." Mari said incredulously. Pain took a hold of her body. Her vision blurred. The sound of approaching feet echoed somewhere nearby. Her legs crumbled beneath her, but before she could fall to the ground, someone caught her. The smell of menthol cigarettes and alcohol burned her nose. The last thing she saw before consciousness fled her was a shock of red hair and the brilliant glow of a man's mako eyes.

Garbled mumurs invaded her ears, joined by the steady beat of the heart monitor. Try as she might to open her eyes, her body refused to comply. Mari hadn't a clue where she was or who the male voice belonged to.

"Please, Miss Colfax, think about it. When you and your sister have fully recovered, don't hesitate to come see me..." murmured the unidentifiable voice.

"Thank you, Mr. ShinRa..." said a woman's voice.

"Just call me Rufus."

"Thank you, Rufus. I'll be sure to contact you as soon as possible." The sound of 3 pairs of retreating feet faded as a door closed. The woman sighed, settling herself in a seat nerby. Mari identified the warmth on her cheek as someone stroking her face affectionately. Her throat was dry, and her tongue felt like lead. All she could manage was a raspy groan. With a tremendous effort, Mari opened her eyes to mere slits.

"Mari!" the woman exclaimed, her face hovering in Mari's hazy field of vision.

"Nazi?" she asked slowly. The masses of curly hair that surrounded the female's head could only belong to her sister. Mari smiled weakly and made a motion to sit up, but Nazifa pressed her back into the hospital bed.

"Nazi...what..." Nazifa smiled softly and petted her hair.

"Shhh...I'll explain it all. You need to rest..."

Roughly half a year after the fall of Sephiroth, a rare and, thusfar, incurable disease struck a dozen or so unfortunate people in the Midgar slums. No one had heard of it before, and none of the unliscenced doctors Mari and Nazifa had taken their mother to could find a treatment. It had come to be known as Geostigma. It was a slow disease, but having already been a sickly woman, their mother was in very bad shape. Considering the financial situation they were in, real medicine was a laughable concept. There was only one other option to ease her pain.

Drugs. Namely, morphine. It liberated her from the pain, but she was a slave to it as well. Naturally after a few months of constant use, she'd grown addicted, the need becoming the driving force of her existance. At times, the sisters had questioned the morality of their personal healthcare methods. But in the slums, what else could they do?

Of course, they worked themselves to the bone to provide for themselves and the cost of maintaining their mother's well-being. Not long after she became sick, Nazifa had come across a very generous man. Her car was nowhere near perfect and had broken down on the side of the road, and to her luck, Cid Highwind happened along her path. From there, a delightful friendship sprouted. Cid served an almost fatherly role in the sisters' lives, offering Nazifa a job as an apprentice mechanic and, through a friend of a friend, found Mari a job as a housekeeper at the Honeybee Inn.

Though they could have found _much_ worse jobs, it still wasn't enough to feed themselves and their mother's addiction.

That's why Nazifa sold herself into a prostitution ring.

She met her eventual owner, Deraj Granite, while waiting for her sister to finish work at the Inn. At first, things were well enough. Better than anyone selling themselves on the street could hope for. As the nights dragged on, Deraj became more and more demanding, paying her less and less. To save herself and her family, a small, one-sided romance grew between them. But she couldn't take the fighting, the abuse, the drugs and alcohol. Slowly, she tucked away some of her earnings, keeping them for herself to eventually take her family away from the hellhole they called home.

Nazifa meant the world to Mari and vise versa. She couldn't bring herself to put such a wieght on her shoulders. Mari never knew.

That is, until Deraj discovered Nazifa's thievery. Being the violent person he was, he lashed out at her physically. Nazifa never went into the details of what transpired before Mari rescued her, though her silence spoke more than her words ever could. In the span of less than 10 minutes, Deraj was no more, and Mari had suffered a potentially fatal knife wound diagonally along the left side of her lower abdomen, more specifically, the illiac crest. Nazifa walked away with a few bruises and a badly split lip, as well as injuries that ran much deeper than her flesh.

And along came Rufus ShinRa. An employee of his had been present at the time of the murder. Accordingly, word of what transpired at the Honeybee Inn came around to him. It appeared that the Vice-President was very distantly related to Deraj. Rufus was disgusted by his relatives actions. Though the idea of spending more money was rather depressing for him, he offered the sisters' a job at his company. He would never come out and say it, but his kindness was the result of his need to restore his honor and desire to apologize for his family's defection.

"You just rest...when the doctor says its okay, we'll go visit Rufus."

"Is Mom okay?" Mari asked tentatively. Nazifa's lips trembled slightly though she continued to smile. Reaching out, she tucked a lock of her sister's hair behind her ear.

"Just rest...you'll need your strength."

"You're free to go, Miss Kael..." It had been a long week spent thinking about things she didn't want to think about, and she'd thought about them for much too long. Mari inclinded her head in thanks, solemnly holding out her hand. The doctor gave her a puzzled look. "Don't I have a medical bill?" The doctor smiled brightly at her.

"No, it appears some friends of yours have paid it off in full. They're waiting for you at the reception desk. Remember, no strenuous activity for at least 2 months. Have a good day, Miss Kael." And with that, the doctor left her with Nazifa. Her elder sister's expression of utter confusion. Wthout a word, the sister's made their way towards the exit to meet their 'friends.'

Dark skin, shaved head, thickly built, tall and brooding. Despite the large amount of light, a pair of sunglasses concealed his eyes. Clad in a black suit, his gloved hand tapped his partner on the shoulder to pull his attention from flirting with the reception lady.

Again, the smell of menthol cigarettes and alcohol gently drifted toward Mari as those seafoam green hues drifted lazily in her direction. Mari's olive orbs were drawn to the red marks that lined his cheekbones. A smug half-smirk curled upon his lips, eyes slowly making their way up her body. The redheaded man also wore a suit, though much less tidy than his friend's. No tie was present, and his oxford shirt was half opened, exposing the expanse of his chest. Though nowhere near as well built as the other, the lean muscle beneath his pale skin was still obvious.

While Mari gawked at the two, Nazifa bowed low to them.

"Thank you very much. I'm assuming Rufus sent you?" Nazifa spoke as though she knew them, which further confused her younger sister. The hairless one merely gave a curt nod.

"Mari, I'd like you to meet Rude..." She indicated the one in sunglasses. "...and Reno."

She was absolutely speechless as the one and only Reno slipped his arm around her shoulder and led her to the exit, Rude and Nazifa following closely. Her moment of stupification was rudely interrupted by the rather obvious presence of the redhead's hand on her behind.

"Welcome to the Turks, babe."


	2. Welcome to the Turks

Wisps of ebon hair clung to the sides of her face, her breath thick and hot. The fabric of her navy shirt strained against her heaving chest. Mari's legs were parted in a wide stance. Much of her toned limbs were exposed, save for the smallest of black shorts that offered only the necessary coverage. Her bare feet left small indentions in the plush floor mat. Her arms were spread and ready to grapple her contender. She wriggled her fingers and balled her hands into fists, daring her to come closer. Emerald hues bore into the hazel tones of the female Turk opposite her. Shuriken had hardly broken a sweat, and here was Mari, moments from complete collapse. A pulse of anger drummed in her ears. Her fellow Turk remained still as a portrait. Mari's legs threatened to give way beneath her, trembling gently as beads of sweat swam down her cheek. She dared a glance at the two Turks that watched the match, though Mari needn't look to know that it was none other than the promiscuous redhead and his stoic, hairless partner. They'd been here, everyday, for the past three weeks. And everyday Mari had endured the same brutality and grew closer to owing Reno a month's worth of drinks.

She now regretted her belligerent self-confidence; it seemed that she might not be able to pin Shuriken in less than a month as was the wager. In the instance that Mari dropped her guard, dragging the back of her hand across her forehead to push a wayward lock from her brow, Shuriken threw her onto her back with legs akimbo and arms bent in an unnatural position. Shuriken's weight rested on her right knee while her left leg bent opposite of Mari. Her right arm grasped Mari's with Bahamut-like strength, bending it backwards near her head. With the emerald-eyed woman's legs left in a loose jumble between the elder Turk's, Mari was in no position to put up any struggle, wincing as she became all too aware of the fatigue and injuries accumulated over the past couple of weeks. Her face was pressed to one side, glazed eyes watching Reno claim his wager of 30 gil from Rude. At least Rude had faith in her, though she'd failed him yet again.

A surge of rage erupted through her veins. Why was she giving up now?! She refused to let that damned redhead use her failure as some sort of bargaining chip. With a low growl, Mari hooked her left leg around the back of Shuriken's head, her limbs slick with sweat. With effort the novice Turkette was able to fold her right leg over her left foot, trapping Shuriken's upper body and outstretched arm between the vice of her legs. With a renewed effort she tightened her grip, feeling her opponent give ground, her lock upon her arm wavering. Shuriken growled, struggling to free herself from between Mari's clenched thighs. To no avail however. Moments later, Shuriken called the match to an end. Mari released her, letting her roll to the side in defeat, sputtering and gasping for breath.

Mari wheezed a laugh, sprawling out on her back as she listened to Reno curse under his breath, refusing to admit defeat as he stuffed the gil he'd almost won into his pocket. Graciously, Mari accepted Shuriken's helping hand. She stumbled forward with leaden feet, nearly collapsing on top of the mako-eyed Turk. She steadied herself by placing one hand on his shoulder, her chest just barely brushing against his. For a moment's time, she basked in her victory, staring him down with a look of superiority, her flushed face hardly an inch from his own. Despite the uncomfortably close proximity of the female Turk, Reno showed no signs of annoyance and made no effort to move. Much to his surprise, she dove her hand in his pocket to recieve the pilfered gil. She brandished it in front of his slightly startled face, panting her next words breathlessly.

"This...goes to...the drinks...you owe me..." Her lips curled into a devious and triumphant grin, unceremoniously stashing it in her cleavage. The redhead gave a defiant grunt but didn't protest, slouching as he thrust his hands into the pockets of his black slacks. Resting much of her weight on Shuriken's shoulder, the two female Turks sauntered toward the women's showers. However, a curt, steely voice stopped them in their tracks.

"Well done, Miss Kael. Be prepared for your first assignment tomorrow. You too, Shuriken." Quick. Simple. Straight to the point. It was none other than Tseng who'd giving these orders. No one had seen or heard him enter, and just as silently, he turned on his heel and left.

A violent shudder from the biting cold peppered her caramel skin with goose bumps, her arms moving to wrap around her trembling frame. The pub was in sight now, and the female Turk all but ran the last few blocks. Mari inhaled the pungent odor of alcohol and cigarettes as she stepped into the musty darkness of the bar. The place had become like a second home to her in the past few weeks. The barkeep gave a small half-smile, already reaching for her drink of choice.

"Welcome back. The usual?" came the gruff rumble of his voice, a bottle of vodka poised above her empty glass. She shook her head as she settled herself on the barstool.

"Not today. Scotch, please."

"Rough day?" he inquired, lofting a brow and moving to find the requested alcohol. Not a word passed her lips, but she gave him a rather exasperated look. He chuckled softly, the golden liquid swirling around the glass. Heaving a sigh, her slender fingers closed around the glass. She brought it to her lips, downing the contents in one shot. The barkeep refilled it before she could even set it down on the worn counter. She flashed a grateful smile before allowing the alcohol to leave a fiery trail down her throat.

"Nice to see you, Reno. It's been a while," the barkeep called with his gravelly voice as the redheaded Turk entered the pub. Mari gave a groan, the thud of her head hitting the counter raising skeptical looks from the barkeep and the lean male that settled beside her.

"I'm happy to see you too." Reno mumbled, eyeing the female Turk before he brought a glass of scotch to his lips. Her eyes drifted in his direction wearily, watching the movement of his throat as he drank the goldenrod alcohol.

"Your sarcasm is going to result in the loss of a sizeable portion of your check..." she growled, emerald hues narrowing as she downed her third—or was it fourth?—glass of scotch. Moments later, the glass was filled and emptied, piercing viridian eyes remaining hard and unfriendly.

"C'mon, babe. Loosen up. You're gonna have to get used to it if we're going to be drinkin' buddies for the next 3 weeks." A small smirk curled his pale tiers, the startling mako of his eyes settling on her face. Again, she groaned at the prospect of such a terribly long time spent enduring his cynical remarks and suffocating ego.

"Or you could always call the deal o—"

"Like hell I will! I'm not going to waste my money on drinks I can force you to pay for!" she shouted incredulously, snatching away the glass of scotch he was raising to his lips and placing it against her own.

"Oi! You could've gotten your own!" he protested, looking at his empty glass with a mixed expression of horror and utter disdain. He made a grab for his glass, but she refused to relinquish it. A battle of stares ensued, the sea foam green of his eyes boring into the emerald depths of her own. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, hand still firmly grasping the glass. However, her resolve was dwindling; the effects of the large amount of alcohol she imbibed were starting to take hold.

For the first time since she'd become acquainted with him, she noticed the crimson scars that lined his upper cheekbones, contrasting beautifully with his pale skin. This was the first time since she'd met him that she'd allowed herself to admire the details of his face. Her expression softened, as did her grip on his scotch glass. Her head was beginning to spin slightly, yet, it somehow didn't seem to be caused by the alcohol. Those lips that were shaped in their infamous grin looked absolutely scrumptious to her in this moment of vulnerability.

The barkeep chuckled at their little spat, shaking her free of her thoughts. Those mako orbs had never left her face, her cheeks now similar in color to his unkempt hair. Flustered and embarrassed, she thrust her empty glass toward the bartender...at the exact same time as Reno.

"Scotch, please," they spoke simultaneously, sending the barkeep into a fit of thunderous laughter. Mari made an exasperated noise, burying her face in the crook of her arm, eliciting a small snicker from her companion. This was going to be a long three weeks.


	3. Fading Convictions

Mucho thanks to my sister's boyfriend for editing for me!

Things had gone wrong; terribly, terribly wrong. To Mari however, what seemed to be a hopeless situation was more like the typical action-packed, bomb, blood, and boob filled movie of the sort that rattled the windows when you blasted the surround sound. Never had she experienced such an exquisitely powerful adrenaline rush until now; bullets rained down from every angle while half-witted thugs hurled themselves at her, only to fall to the ground bruised and broken. She loved every second of the blood bath, more than she should've perhaps. Her fellow Turkette, the blonde Elena, shouted to her from across the warehouse turned war-zone, but bloodlust had blurred her superior's orders into incomprehensible noise that was quickly lost within the cacophony of gunfire. A nondescript lackey clawed hopelessly at the thick, steel chain that was, at this moment, pressing his airway closed. Even before undertaking her first mission, Mari had taught herself to fight with a chain. There was a certain morbid kinship that had formed between she and the metallic weapon since the day she'd used it to facilitate her initial kill. Without ever removing her sparkling, viridian hued gaze from the purpling face of her opponent, she thrust her right leg sideways, level with her hip, and caught another would-be attacker in the stomach as he approached. From the corner of her eye she saw the man double over with a groan, clutching his stomach. Her peripheral vision however, did not include the glint of silver as he drew his gun.

"Mari!" shrieked Elena, as she frantically sprinted in her direction, slithering past various assaults from the enemy surrounding them. Mari realized she wouldn't have enough time to draw her seldom-used sidearm. At such short range, a bullet was certain to be fatal if he had any sort of aim at all. Could she dodge it, perhaps? The rush of chemicals seemed to be fading; she hadn't the time to debate her actions. Mari acted marvelously under pressure, but in the face of death itself, she froze. As the man that was certain to be the cause of her demise began to pull back the trigger, a blur of red filled her vision.

Enter Reno, Second in Command of the Turks, to save the day! Of course, a prideful woman such as Mari could not accept the role of a damsel in distress. Displaying an alacrity that was sorely absent a moment ago, she threw herself into the midst of the conflict; drawing her gun, letting swing her chain, and fanning bullets throughout the melee with an inspired conviction. Random limbs flew, making contact with sensitive body parts and leaving blood stains on the Turks' attire. Gracefully, the dark, stoic man named Rude pummeled several attackers into the ground with an unnerving calm, leaving them groaning and scrambling to get away from his deadly, gloved fists. With a vicious fluidity similar to a river coursing through the mountains, the redhead flowed among the onslaught of bodies, watching them drop like flies before they knew what hit 'em. Though a small woman, Elena was a force to be reckoned with only by the most intrepid or foolish. Her remarkable precision made her more than a formidable foe, whether it be with an empty fist or a gun.

Mari held none of these qualities however. She was quite clumsy and reckless. She had no particular style, playing touch-and-go with the enemy and hoping things would work out for the better. Tseng was quite annoyed with her lack of discipline thus far, but at least she got the job done. In the heat of battle it seemed she acquired a chaotic elegance. This was her 7th mission, and the biggest one yet. What had begun as a simple 'find the enemy and beat information out of him' sort of mission had turned into a full-blown mob fight. Mari and Elena had been sent alone, and they held their own fairly well until their reinforcements had arrived.

A final crackle of electricity from Reno's EMR sounded as the last foe fell atop the masses of unconscious or injured bodies. Elena was already relaying the details to Tseng. Mari caught only the end of the conversation.

"...taking over ShinRa. I heard something about a grudge being settled...yes...yes, sir. I understand." The phone flipped shut and returned to the confines of her pocket. Any minute now, the clean-up crew would arrive, and the four well-trained fighters would be allowed to clock out and, more likely than not, hit the nearest bar. This was definitely Mari's first thought. With a downward glance at her garments, she cursed under her breath. Yet another blood-stained shirt that would have to be thrown out. The most upsetting part of it all was that her hard-earned alcohol money would have to be spent on a replacement. This was the 4th shirt she'd ruined this week, making for a week's worth of bar trips she could no longer afford. Mari was not a happy camper, and Reno 's next actions would do nothing to improve her disposition.

"You've got blood on your cheek," he muttered, a cigarette screwed between his pale lips. Mari wrinkled her nose, an erstwhile lock of ebon hair falling in her eyes. She absolutely detested cigarettes, and would've rather jumped off the top of Fort Condor than be forced to smoke one. The smell became stronger as Reno approached her. Before she could do anything about the substance on her cheek however, the pink flesh of his tongue darted from between his lips and ran along his thumb. His wetted diget was then applied to wipe away the blood. Mari's cheeks were now red for an entirely different reason, and the effect he had on her only served to inflate his already dangerously large ego. A smirk curled those plush tiers, the cigarette replaced between the fingers of his free hand. Like a deer caught in headlights, she found herself drowning in the mako pools of his eyes. Just as she was about to let fly a barrage of insults for having even thought about touching her, movement from over his shoulder caught Mari's attention.

Without a word, she pushed passed him with more force than was necessary, leaping through the piles of bodies with all the grace of a gazelle in pursuit of the escapee. However, Mari wasn't renowned for her speed, and the person she was chasing had a considerable head start. Mari was just barely passing through the back entrance when the runaway was about to fling themselves around the corner. Beneath the single flickering streetlight, Mari caught a glimpse of the person's face. Much of their features were still submerged in shadow, yet the startling cerulean blue of their eyes could have been seen from a mile away. Mari lost sight of the fugative as they rounded the corner. Cursing to herself, she clutched her knees, panting heavily.

"Just let him go. What harm can one man do? He can't hide forever. Its time to report to headquarters…" Elena said in a matter-of-factly tone as Mari hobbled her way back. Running definitely wasn't her thing, and the exertion was taking it's toll on her body.

"Yeah…I suppose you're right. Rufus is expecting us." she replied.

Dust powdered their black slacks, the blood of the conquered was painted across their oxford shirts, their clothing was disheveled, and their collective hair askew (with the exception of Rude of course); the four Turks were ready to wash away the night's work in a nice, hot shower and settle down into the comfort of their beds until the morning stole their sleep again. It appeared Rufus had a different plan for them however. Elena and Rude stood at attention, hands clasped behind their backs, holding themselves with dignity as best they could, despite their appearance. In quite the opposite fashion, Reno was rummaging through his pockets for a lighter. The president's back was turned to them, gazing beyond the paneled windows that stretched from floor to ceiling. He stood behind his desk as he gathered his words, while Mari, with due stealth, withdrew the silver flask she kept hidden away in her pocket. Inside it was a goldenrod liquid a certain redhead was fond of, and his fondness for that alcohol he'd passed on to her through their weeks of drinking together. Nothing was getting between her and her alcohol that night, not even the stern look that Rufus ShinRa was currently giving her. With a sigh, Mari reluctantly replaced the flask in her pocket. Reno still held the lit cigarette between his lips of course, Rufus had long ago given up on asking him to stop. Stepping from behind his desk, he paced the room quietly for a moment, all eyes watching him with mixed expressions of alertness and lethargy.

"As the leading corporation of Midgar, we have to represent ourselves as a refined company." A pause; he stopped in front of Rude. "Thus, it is required to keep up this image through...social functions." He took a few more steps, wandering leisurely towards Elena. It seemed that he wasn't particularly keen on the last words he spoke-a certain cynicism invaded the inflection of his voice. "A man of great importance has invited me to a ball." Again, that last word held a tinge of disdain. He was about to yield in front of Reno when he exhaled a hefty cloud of bluish smoke. Rufus wrinkled his nose and simply continued his authoratative pacing. "And as the pre-emenant business, attending such a high-profile function without the benefit of an elite guard would be ridiculous. Therefore, I've elected the four of you to represent ShinRa, and to dispose of anyone who attempts to meddle in our affairs tonight."

'I have to go to this stupid dance, and I'm taking you all down with me,' was roughly the gist of President ShinRa's flowery speech. He seemed to be taking perverse pleasure in forcing this duty upon them. There were marked traces of sadism written on his features. "You have four hours to prepare. Elena and Rude, you will escort me in the helicopter. Reno and Mari, you will take a seperate heli-"

"For the love of Jenova, are you really forcing me to be partners with him!?" Mari practically shrieked in a high-pitched tone of incredulousness. She pointed an accusing finger violently in the direction of Reno. Rufus blinked, unfazed by her outburst. He continued as though he hadn't been interrupted at all, addressing Reno with a very firm stare. "And you'd better be presentable, Reno ." With that, he pivoted upon his heel and waved them off. Stunned, Mari remained rooted to her spot as the obedient Turks made their leave.

"Don't worry, babe. I'm a good dancer." The redhead ever so casually draped his arms around her shoulders, flicking his cigarette onto the extremely well-kept carpet of the president's office, snuffing it with the heel of his shoe and smirking down at the female that was currently trying to distance herself from him as soon as possible. It was more for his sake than hers. "I'm even better off my feet." He leaned closer towards her ear as he muttered this, a gruff undertone to his voice. With an almost viper-like quickness that even surprised Reno , she grabbed a fistful of his half-undone and bloody shirt, tugging him roughly against her form. The petite, but intimidating woman's breath was warm on his face. "You better be at my apartment in 3 hours, or I will hunt you down." The angry hiss of her voice went well with her serpentine swiftness and dangerously slitted eyes. He stared after her speechlessly as she stormed from the room, nearly knocking the glass doors off its hinges and leaving an ominous cloud of utter loathing in her wake.

This would be the 4th time she drenched the thing on her head that was supposed to be hair in the strongest hairspray she could find. Goodbye, ozone. Her hair was sculpted to perfection in a confused mass of thick, ebony tendrils twisted into a series of frustrating French braids and piled atop her head in an almost wedding-cake fashion. She pouted her lips in the mirror, reapplying the sticky substance of her lip gloss. Again, she examined the immaculately applied eye make-up; the bottom lid of her eyes were lined with inhumanly precise black liner, eyelashes coated in something close to an entire tube of mascara, and eyelids dusted with gold shimmer powder. To prevent her face from melting, the somewhat disgruntled woman squeezed her eyes shut as she sporadically covered her fantastic make-up job in a coat of hairspray. By now, her head was nearly bullet-proof. Mari now harbored a great dislike of her gender. What she wouldn't give to be allowed to show up in a simple tuxedo. Alas, she was left to wriggle her way into the golden layers of her dress. It was a backless number, with a bustle of piles of folded yellowed-honey satin. A tug here, and a tug there, and she was snuggly encased in the dress, soon slipping her hands into the matching, elbow-length gloves. She made an attempt to stick her feet into the constrictive tangle of her strappy high heels with great reluctance. To say the least, the caramel-skinned female looked absolutely stunning, but the practicality of the outfit was highly questionable; she was supposed to be protecting the president, after all. How the hell she was supposed to find her thigh holster beneath her outfit was quite a mystery to her. At least she'd look good if she died. And now, for the final touch.

With much less elegance, she shoved her arms into the worn sleeves of her leather jacket. Before she could take one step towards the door, she began to wobble precariously upon the perch of her heels. Who would be looking at her feet to begin with? Nearly tearing the delicate straps in an attempt to free her feet, she threw the dreadful shoes across the room with a clatter when it made contact with the wall, stuffed her feet hurriedly into her favorite pair of leather boots without even tying the laces, gathered up her keys and stormed out the door of her apartment.

... Reno was late.

Mari couldn't help but smile. It had been a while since she'd last used it. Her baby, her one prized possession. Morada she'd named it. It was a deep, midnight purple, the color of lust…if lust had teeth. Gripping handfuls of her dress, she mounted the monsterous twisted metal called a motorcycle. Such a beautiful piece of work it was, all roaring engines and flashing lights and shimmering chrome. It came to life with a tremendous, satisfying roar. Naturally, anyone's attention would be drawn to the rumble of its passing. The bright flash of gold, bustle fluttering in the wind as the hot-tempered woman furiously sped towards her destination only left the passers by in complete awe. Mari's and Reno's apartments weren't that far apart, well within walking distance, but nothing would make the same impact as a woman in a full ballroom gown riding up on a motorcycle made by Cid Highwind himself clad in a leather jacket that read, 'If you're reading this, my bitch fell off."

Reno didn't turn as the vehicle came to a rather abrupt hault along the curb, engine purring before it stuttered to silence. The man had hardly gotten out of his apartment building; one arm rested heavily on the worn brick of the complex, upper half leaning towards a woman he was currently trying to swindle into bed. His free hand feathered along her upper arm, muttering in a low, seductive voice. If it weren't for Mari's abrupt arrival, he just might have succeeded. The woman giggled, leaning in a bit closer as she murmured something in response to his words, eyes half-lidded, sedated, somewhat lustful. But, no matter how enthralled she was with the redhead, one couldn't easily ignore the obviously annoyed female in 10 pounds of gold satin marching towards them. Her skirts were hiked up rather high, tattered boots visible and pounding the pavement in an astonishingly quick pace. Finally noticing the woman's loss of interest, the Second in Command of the Turks turned to face the distraction.

"You're late..." Mari snarled, offering no apologies to the woman, gripping him firmly by the upper arm and viciously yanking him towards the motorcycle. Her eyes blazed emerald fire, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and fear. Not a word passed his lips as she mounted the bike. He glanced between his potential bedmate, the intimidating bike and the even more intimidating woman perched there, eyeing the wording on her jacket. The bewildered woman standing in the middle of the sidewalk blinked at him. Mari stared daggers at him, daring him to dally a minute longer. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Reno was all too familiar with that saying and opted to prevent another lovely run-in with it.

The man had hardly settled himself behind her when the engine roared to life. Mari tensed as his hands rested lightly upon her waist. She might have ignored it if those devious hands of his didn't continue to slither down towards her hips. She could feel him smirking, feel the enclosing warmth of his breath upon her neck. His hands slipped more towards the front of her form where the curve of her hips melted into toned thighs. Mari wasn't sure what angered her more; the fact that he was touching her at all, or the fact that he was touching her in front of the woman he was attempting to seduce moments ago. As his lips brushed her shoulder, the beastly motorcycle shot forward and the redhead gripped her waist tightly, pressing closer to her now to simply spare himself from falling to the asphalt. Absolute silence woven with the furious sounds of the engine followed them from his apartment to the headquarters. From the front of the 69-story tall building, to the glass elevator, to the rooftop, Mari exuded an aura of pure hatred, and Reno allowed her to fume silently, absorbing her anger peacefully. The pounding of her boots towards the helicopter pad was interrupted; she whirled around as he spoke, startled by how close he was.

"You look beautiful tonight. And I'm not just saying that to get you out of that dress. Not that I'd mind…" Of course, the devious Turk smirked, but there was sincerity to his words. Thank God it was dark or he just might have noticed the beginnings of a blush. She wouldn't dare inflate his ego.

For the first time that night, she regarded him without thinking how much she'd like to strangle him. The fiery hair of his was as messy as ever, but it suited him well. His attire wasn't a far cry from what he usually wore to work, but simply tucking in his shirt and using his tie for its intended purpose worked wonders on the impact his presence made. The tie was red, a deep ox-blood hue, contrasting nicely against his pale skin and the roses that were tucked in the lapel of his jacket. Though she would never voice it… Reno looked good. Excellent. Suave. Delicious. And as she ponder this, she realized she'd been gawking openly at him. Now she was certain he'd seen her blush. So much for keeping his ego at bay. Mari noticed how well-kempt his shoes were, eyes glued to the ground. He chuckled slightly, and without permission, stepped behind her and placed his slender hands upon her shoulders. His movements were the very definition of gentle as he slipped the worn leather from her shoulders. Mari didn't even think before whirling around to slap him across the face, her jacket falling heavily upon the ground. With a smile that would make a goddess fall to her knees and all the grace of a swan, he caught her wrist hardly a centimeter before contact would have been made.

"Ah ah ah…" he said softly with a wag of his index finger. The same hand reached into his coat, slowly removing a beautiful corsage of roses and baby's breath that matched his own. No man had treated her with such decency, and of all men to treat her this way, it was him, the notoriously promiscuous sex fiend named Reno . Not once did his eyes leave her face as he placed the corsage about her wrist. As if that weren't enough, he brought her petite hand to his lips, placing a kiss on the nape of her wrist.

"Shall we? Your chariot awaits you." He made a flourishing movement, bowing slightly towards her, arm motioning to the helicopter yards away from them. He gathered her jacket in one arm, offering the other to escort her to their mode of transportation. He held the same otherworldly smile. Trembling slightly, she rested her gloved hand upon his arm. Was he simply trying to con her into her birthday suit? No, there was no reason to put so much effort into a woman that obviously detested him when I could get someone far more attractive and willing in the matter of 5 minutes. Was it to 'uphold the image of ShinRa Electric Company?' She gave him a sidelong glance...scratch that. That left only one reason. He was simply being sweet for no other reason. It was a hard concept to accept.

Inwardly, she battled two courses of action. A part of her was still angry, wanting nothing more than to take his breath away via strangulation. The rest of her was willing to put aside her previous prejudice and give him a second chance. Caught up in her debate, she lost her footing in her attempt to climb into the helicopter. She let out a shriek, preparing to hit the cement when Reno caught her around her waist as if it were the most natural thing in the word. Glancing back at him, flustered and panting, he laughed at her expression and easily hoisted her into her seat and settled next to her moments afterward. Despite the previous course the night had taken, things didn't seem too bad after all.

She'd made her decision. How often would she be invited to a high-society ball, and accompanied with a man as unequivocally enchanting as he? It was only one night that she'd have to suffer his ego, one night she'd have to put up with his perverted antics, one night she'd ever have to be within 3 feet of the man if she so chose. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Mari knew she was only rationalizing her actions to prevent any guilt or questioning of her own motives. It was a fancy, sophisticated ball, so she had an excuse-no, an obligation-to have a good time, to represent ShinRa to it's fullest. Slowly, she cantered her head to the side and flashed him a small smile-angelic, brilliant, genuine. And he returned it with no constraints.

"Thank you." This was the first time in the entire span of friendship, if you could call it that, that she ever spoke with such a gentle voice and actually meant it. He wasn't startled, nor did he question it.

"No problem, babe." He murmured with a sidelong glance and a smirk as he flipped several switches here and there. The propeller of the helicopter began to whir, and as the noise reached its crescendo, it lifted from its perch upon the rooftop and steadily made its way towards their destination.


	4. Devil in the Moonlight

Sukaretto, you are my hero! She was my inspiration for this chapter. Thank you so much! And, of course, the lovely Reno 3

It was straight out of the fairytales Mari was never told as a child. Crystal chandeliers, paintings worth more than her lifetime earnings, women clad in jewelry of such a calibur that one diamond studded necklace alone could provide for every impoverish person cluttering the streets of the Midgar slums. The vast room was filled with ringing laughter, the click of heels, and suffocating smell of expensive cigars and imported perfumes. Quite some distance from her perch atop the grand staircase, the final notes of the violins faded with a fabulous vibrato, and half-hearted applause wafted over the crowds of people. Women draped in rich fabrics on varying sides of the color spectrum twirled around their male counterparts, most of which settled for the simplicity of a black tuxedo.

Such poise. Such grace. Such sophistication. Time for Mari to find the nearest bathroom to 'powder her nose.' Rather, lock herself in a stall until such time as Rufus deemed their torture over. Mari would have killed to have some sort of disturbance, anything to prevent her from descending that velvet-lined staircase she was currently stumbling down. She was quickly regretting having resigned herself to having a good time.

"I hate you," she hissed under her breath, face contorted into an expression of pure loathing as she gazed upwards towards the redhead. The grip she held on his forearm was unnecessarily tight.

"I know you do," he said with almost a purr to his voice, flashing her another one of those million-dollar smiles. The hand that was wrapped around her waist moved a bit too low for comfort. Had they not already reached the bottom of the steps, she might have pushed him down them. With a sigh, she rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck, cause a few raised brows from passers by, and allowed her most dazzling and perposterously fake smile to curve her plush lips. The two Turks were hardly three steps off the staircase when they spotted the sheen of the luminous crystal chandeliers off a hairless head. Of course, it was none other than Rude awkwardly weaving his way through the thickets of people.

"Holy hell, Rude has eyes?" It was the first time Mari had ever seen those honeyed hues without his trademark sunglasses obscuring their superb intensity. The tacit Turk seemed quite uncomfortable in the stark white suit of his with an ebony button-up shirt beneath. Mari gapped openly as he came to a halt before him. Rude never looked messy, so one couldn't quite say that he cleaned up well. Rather, Rude looked exceptionally more handsome after upgrading from the typical Turk attire. "Well well, don't you look snazzy? Where's Elena?" He simply grunted to answer her question and turned his body at an angle to indicate the woman in blue heading their way.

The gown she donned that night was made of indigo satin with whit buttons running from the very bottom of her outfit to the lace-trimmed collar that ended beneath her chin. It was form-fitting, tapered around her ankles with a small train of the rich material trailing behind her. It was backless, very much like Mari's dress. The colour of the gown made her eyes dance like gems. Being that her blond locks weren't of any great length, she simply clipped them away from her face with an expensive-looking, jewel-encrusted hair pin.

The two immaculately dressed women greeted each other with a warm smile and the cheek-touching air-kisses the upper class were accustomed to giving. The silence of the Shinra employees was more than enough to express how many people they were willing to maim to trade the fancy formalities for a dingy pub. Mari wasted no time in escaping from the deafening silence.

"Glad you're here, Elena. Keep Reno company while I dance with Rude." Mari had hardly finished blurting out these words before she gripped Rude's palm in her one petite one, dragging him into the throngs of people leisurely moving through the colossal ballroom. Helplessly, the bulky man stumbled after her, golden bustles rustling as she left her fellow Turks bewildered and disoriented. Rude muttered apologies to the various couples they were plummetting through. After thoroughly losing sight of her destination, the frazzled female came to an abrupt hault somewhere in the middle of the gargantuim room.

"Mari, I can't-"

"Don't worry. I can't dance either." Honey locked with emerald, sending smiles of mutual understanding to flicker across their lips. "You're tall. Can you see where the booze is being kept?" With his imposing aura subconciously parting the twirling couples, they traipsed towards the next room, swooping down on the nearest caterer with champagne. Each of them had downed their first glass of the evening, returned the emptied containers to the tray pressed held flat against the caterer's palm and began heading towards the nearest unoccupied area before the caterer even realized what happened. Mari wrinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue. Champagne was much too bubbly for her tastes. "I'll stick with my scotch." Of course, she said this as she was pulling out a small silver flask from between her breasts. Scotch. She never left home without it. She took a quick swig, then offered it to Rude, who took it gratefully.

"It sure looks like you're dancing," murmured Reno from behind them, where he was resting his light weight casually against a long table covered with crystal glasses and bottle upon bottle of pricey champagne. One of said bottles was now pressed to his lips. Elena stood meekly to the side of him, sipping the pale liquid from one of the fragile glasses. Mari narrowed her eyes dangerously at him, folding her arms beneath her chest.

"And this, my friends, is Shinra's finest, " she said with a cutting malevolence. Hardly six words had left his lips and her mercurial temper had ignited. Without even looking, she yanked her flask back from Rude.

"Because bringing a flask of scotch to a ball is 'refined'?" he retorted with a smirk just as the fiery liquid was brought to her lips. Lucky for him, she capped it before throwing it directly as his head. He was rather amused by her anger, dodging the object as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"You owe me for that," he said with a twisted little smirk.

"You're such a pig," she spat venomously, viridian hues narrowing dangerously.

"No I'm not!" He said this with widened eyes, as though she'd said something entirely too vulgar for his virgin ears.

"Then what _are_ you?" A step closer she pressed as she stressed the question of his identity, staring daggers directly into the seductive mako.

"A Turkey," he stated simply with laughter in his eyes. Of course, Mari was fed up with his cheesy humor at this point.

"Fuck you!"

"Right here? Alright."

Throwing her hands up in disgusted, she turned on the tattered heel of her leather boots and began stomping away in the opposite direction. However, her little tirade came to an abrupt hault when the flustered female ran directly into another woman.

The woman's blonde hair was piled atop her head elegantly. Her eyes were an unnervingly familiar blue, cold and piercing. She wore a simple gown that didn't leave much to the imagination; low-cut, a slit that reached her thigh, and made of a material that clung delightfully to her every curve. The dress was colored most vibrant red. No, not just red. Scarlet.

"I'm terribly so--"

"Its a pleasure to meet you Miss Kael." She extended a hand, nails painted with inhuman perfection to match that of her dress. Mari glanced between the offered hand and the woman's face with furrowed brows. Three pairs of swift footsteps filled her ears as her fellow Turks came to a hault next her. Reno's hand came to rest upon her waist, applying a small amount of pressure. With a look of an even deeper confusion, she lifted her chin to regard his own face. All traces of amusement were long gone, jaw visibly tense. The hardness of his mako hues cased her to shiver. Elena and Rude held the same antagonistic expressions.

"Well, hello there Reno, Rude, Elena. It's nice to come back to such a warm welcome." The intonation of her voice held an almost strained civility. No matter how lovely her smile was, venom dripped from every pore.

"You're supposed to be dead," said Elena flatly, eyes sparkling with raw malice.

"I'm alive and quite well, actually,"the woman replied matter-of-factly, struggling to keep her lips curved into a smile.

"What do you want, Scarlet?" Reno pressed with a demanding tone that caught Mari by surprise. She glance from Scarlet to the redhead.

"I simply came to greet the newest member of the Turks. I heard she's quite the little firecracker." The hand on Mari's side tightened when Scarlet flashed her what was supposed to be a friendly grin.

"She doesn't wish to speak with you." Reno stated this with finality.

"She's a big girl. She can speak for herself. How about a little walk, Miss Kael?"

"She's not going anywhere." He almost growled these words.

"I capable of making my own decisions," Mari blurted, now turning narrowed optics towards Reno. She didn't like being told what to do.

"Since when? Do you even know who she is?" There was such intensity blazing in his very breath. What was he protecting her for?

"Let her go, Reno." Rude's gavelly voice prevented her from shooting further insults at him. She brushed his hand from her waist somewhat violently. Reno said nothing as she stepped towards Scarlet.

"Yes, Miss Scarlet, I would love to." The blond woman smiled triumphantly at the redhead, offering her arm to her companion.

"Give my regards to Rufus. I _will_ be seeing you around." That sounded more like a threat than anything. Mari glanced over her shoulder to gaze at Reno, eybrows knitted together as she tryed to find some meaning behind his actions from his features. For the briefest of moments, some sort of emotion flickered across his features before he turned to his previous ventures..

"How do you know them?" Mari murmured, still watching her fellow employees from over her shoulder.

"We used to work together. I was the Head of the Weapons Development Department. I was presumed dead due to an explosion."

"They didn't seem to happy to see you..." Scarlet simply smiled at this, mulling over the words before changing subjects.

"I have a proposition for you." Over the course of their conversation, they had wandered to a balcony. The crimson vixen procured a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the bountiful valley of her chest. She offered one to Mari, who shook her and waited eagerly for the proposition to be made. After a few failures, Scarlet managed to force her lighter to cooperate. The feeble flame was placed against the tip of her cigarette, sending it to flare orange as she took the first drag. The intimidating woman came to rest her elbows along the railing, and the green-eyed Turk followed suit, distancing herself to avoid the smoke. Pulling the cancer stick from between her plush lips, bluish smoke slithered from between her partially parted lips as Scarlet continued speaking.

"I would like to offer you a job with me. I'll give you any kind you'd like. You can go anywhere from permanent field work, which most of the other Turks are heading towards, all the way up to my personal assitant, if you really wanted. It's your choice." Sliding up next to the gold-clad woman, she wove an arm around her shoulders, eyes dancing with anticipation. "Mari, my dear...with me at your side, you are going to _rule_ this company. What do you say?"

What _could_ she say? Mari was a newbie. A fledgling to the ShinRa company. To this day, she still didn't know where the bathroom was on her floor. There were definitely more qualified people to complete whatever Scarlet's objective was. What _should_ she say? It was obvious that the other Turks were not fond of her. Something in the back of her mind told her that no wasn't exactly an option. But something also told her that saying yes was disasterous. Scarlet spoke again before Mari could, her voice mimicking sympathy.

"I know things have been hard for you, with the death of your mother, what happened to your sister. But you have the opportunity to make something of yourself. Isn't that what they would've..."

"You know nothing. Don't tell me how I feel. I make my own decisions," Mari hissed, eyeing her viciously. Scarlet's lips curved into a smirk.

"If you can make your own decisions, then surely you would know that saying yes would be in your best interests."

"You mean in _your_ best interests?"

"You catch on quickly."

"What exactly do you plan use me for?" And here enters Rufus Shinra. This was the first time Mari was ever truly happy to see him.

"What a pleasant surprise, Scarlet." His voice was calm, collected, free of the malicious edge everyone else's words had held.

"I'll leave you two to catch up." Mari was already headed for the exit as she said these words, skirts hiked up about her as she bustled away. She wove her way through the crowds, not bothering to offer any apologies, skittering down flight after flight of marble staircases at break-neck speeds. Somewhere in the distance, Elena called for her, but Mari kept marching forward, desperately searching for the nearest exit.

As the cool night air and the pale light of the moon engulfed her, she broke into a reckless run, dodging the few bewildered people loitering in front of the building and the sparse pedestrians meandering along the pavement. She ran as if her life depended on it. She ran not from Scarlet, but from all the memories she'd packed away into those impossible reaches of her being. She ran from herself, but knew it was useless. Mari had yet to dwell on the misfortunes that had brought her here today, and to have it thrown in her face while defenseless was more than she could handle. Exhausted and trembling, Mari slowed to a walk, fighting fruitlessly against the moisture gathering in her eyes. The sound of the orchestra could be heard faintly; she hadn't run very far. Beneath the soft glow of the only streetlight for blocks to come stood a solitary bench. It was worn but well-kempt with a few yellowed leaves from a nearby tree scattered along the seat. Defeated and lifeless, she sank into the comforts of the bench, golden bustle embracing her. She pulled her knees to her chest from beneath her dress, entire frame shaking visibly with the effort of remaining calm. Just as the tears were about to flow, the smell of menthol smoke reached her nose. Her emerald orbs glanced to the side, and all previous emotional instability ebbed away to be replaced by a wave of reflief.

"The moon is lovely tonight, don't you think?" Reno said casually as though it weren't obvious she was on the brink of a mental breakdown. The silvery light made him look almost angelic as he gazed towards the night sky. He then regarded her with a soft expression, releasing another cloud of smoke. For a moment, she stared blankly with damp eyes, watching the smoke curl from his pale lips and slowly fade into the night.

"Smoking is bad for you," she murmured weakly, resting her chin atop her knees, eyes following the few leaves that skittered along the pavement. She didn't even have the energy to insult the poor man.

"So is drinking," he retorted monotonously. Flicking the cigarette to the ground and snuffing it with the heel of his foot, he came to rest upon the bench beside her. For a time, they drown themselves in the luscious light of the moon, idly listening to a nondescript piano piece filtering from the ballroom.

"You still owe me." He eyed her with that infamous smirk of his. Mari looked at him listlessly, absolutely no traces of anger or any other expression in her features. The suave Turk returned to standing, extending his hand toward her. Her eyes flittered from his outstretched palm, to the smile on his lips, and back again, trying to find some alterior motive in his actions. Slowly, her trembling hand lifted to brush against his own.

"C'mon darlin'. Dance with the devil in the pale moonlight."


End file.
